One of Those Weeks
by Cuthalion97
Summary: Just a short account of what happens one evening on the Castle of Lions . . . when everyone is tired. :) Enjoy, and please leave a review! Or many. I'm not picky. :D


Allura shut her eyes and summoned a wormhole – or, rather, she _attempted_ to summon a wormhole. The lights on the ship flickered and buzzed, turned back on, flickered once more – and then everything shut down. Coran rushed around frantically, trying to discover the cause while the paladins waited near their respective lions, impatient to begin the mission.

It was nearly two hours before Coran regretfully announced that they couldn't travel anywhere for at least a week. "I'm not quite sure what's wrong, but I suspect the ship needs a whole lot of minor repairs. She's been through a lot, you know."

Lance grumbled something that may have been, "So have we."

Allura, determined as always, announced that they might as well take the opportunity for extra training. There was a chorus of sighs and groans from everyone except Shiro, and Allura frowned.

"Whatever," said Lance, slumping out of the hangar. "Aren't we ever going to have time to waste again? Y'know, just plain old idleness?"

"Lance," said Allura with an obvious attempt at patience. "You should know by now that we don't have time to – waste time."

"She's right." Shiro's voice was firm, but Lance was sure he detected a note of tiredness in it. "We have to be ready for anything."

Hunk yawned. "Man, I'm ready for a nap. Sitting for two hours doing nothing is exhausting."

"Says you," muttered Pidge as the paladins gathered in the lounge. "I have a ton of work to do. That information from the ship . . ."

Lance waved a hand. "Do it later."

Pidge gave him a look.

Shiro stepped in, placing a hand on each of their shoulders. "There'll be time for that kind of thing, Pidge, but we _should_ train together more often. We haven't had the opportunity lately, with all these missions."

"I know . . ." She still didn't look happy.

"Hey," said Lance, looking around. "Where's Keith?"

"I'm already at the training deck," he said through their commlink. "You guys coming or not?"

By dinnertime, everyone was tired, sore and more than a little short-tempered. Coran had been busy with repairs, so there was nothing to eat except the green food goo (although several people secretly thought that the goo was better than Coran's . . . conglomerations).

Hunk stared at the quivering mass before him until Coran left the room. Then he jumped to his feet, suddenly full of energy.

Keith gave him a suspicious look, which Hunk ignored. "Anyone else want to wait a bit for dinner?" he asked, scooping up his bowl. "I'll head down to the kitchens and make something – er – more palatable."

Shiro's spoon was halfway to his mouth, but at Hunk's words he tilted it back into the bowl. "Thanks, Hunk."

Hunk snatched the other bowls away, almost causing Lance to face-plant in his goo, and the others leaned back in their chairs to wait. Pidge pulled a small electrical device out of nowhere and began clicking away. Shiro folded his arms over his chest and tipped his head back, shutting his eyes. Keith, too, sat with his arms folded, slouched down with his chin practically on his chest.

Lance, true to form, grew bored of the silence after about half a minute. He leaned over, balancing precariously with one hand on the table and one foot hooked around his own chair's supports, to see what Pidge was doing.

She jerked the screen away with a snarl, and Lance backed off. "Wow – okay, sorry, Pidge. I only wanted to see what you were working on."

Pidge cast him an irked glare. "Do you have any idea how hard it is to concentrate with you gawking over my shoulder like that?"

Lance shrugged, grinning. "No, but you can show me. I'll use your little computer-thingy, and _you_ stare over _my_ shoulder."

He reached for the device, and she slapped his hand away, scrambling over the table to sit next to Keith. She glared once more, and Lance could have sworn that she actually put her nose in the air for a moment before going back to work, muttering furiously under her breath.  
Shiro shifted his position a bit, eyes still closed.

Lance sighed loudly.

Keith tilted his head to watch Pidge's work over her shoulder. She glanced at him, then went back to work.

Lance gave a shocked gasp. Pidge ignored him. Lance widened his eyes in what was supposed to be a pleading expression.

"Piiiiiiidge!" he whined. When she _still_ ignored him, he slumped down in his chair, slid under the table, and scrambled out beside Pidge to snatch at her device.

She shrieked – sounding more angry than scared – and swatted at him again, accidentally elbowing Keith in the ear as she moved. Keith clapped a hand to his ear and Lance rushed to the other side of the large dining room, Pidge's computer . . . thing . . . clutched tightly in his hands.

"LANCE!" screamed Pidge, chasing him. "Give that back NOW!"

Lance held it high above his head as she jumped for it. "Aw, come on, Pidge, lighten up a little. Can't you take a joke?"

She stomped on his instep, and he yelped. "Okay, guess not."

With another surprisingly quick move – Shiro must have been training her again, dangit – Pidge kicked him in the side of the knee, knocked him off-balance, and snatched her device back.

Then, to add insult to injury, she walked off in a huff without deigning to look at him. Lance made a face. He was definitely going to speak to Coran about practical jokes. For all he knew, the Alteans might have a better sense of humor than his own teammates . . . Which, come to think of it, was more than a little discouraging. He should really do something about that.

Lance sauntered back towards the table, limping exaggeratedly. The second he got within five feet of Pidge, she spun around and drew her bayard, looking entirely prepared to use it.

"Whoa!" yelped Lance, backing off.

Shiro opened his eyes with a faint sigh. "Lance, stop bothering Pidge. Just – take it easy."

And, just like that, Lance found himself becoming irritated. He frowned at Pidge and whispered, "What about _teamwork_? I thought we were supposed to do stuff _together_!"

Keith glanced up, looking utterly uncaring and bored. "We're all in the same room, aren't we?"

"That's not the same thing!" Lance yelped.

They stared at each other for a long moment and then – for absolutely no definable reason – dove at each other simultaneously. They wrestled across the floor, snarling and muttering, and rammed into Pidge's chair. She climbed back over the table, plugging in another algorithm as she did so, and sat down next to Shiro, who was watching the two boys with an odd expression. It looked as though he felt obliged to interfere, but was seriously considering as to whether or not it would even be worth it.

Pidge snorted and went back to work.

Keith pinned Lance to the ground. "Give up?"

Oooh, he sounded _smug_. Well, two could play at this game. Lance relaxed, pretending to give in, and Keith let him up. Lance dove at his ankles, flinging him down, and landed on top of him.

"Gotcha, Mullet," he smirked.

Keith didn't even answer – at least, not vocally. The next second, Lance was flying through the air and landed with a crash against Hunk, who had just walked in with a full tray.

Hunk staggered back into the door, and a bowl of something spilled all over Lance, who had fallen to the ground. Lance sputtered and wiped the gelatinous stuff – which tasted suspiciously familiar – out of his mouth.

Hunk set the tray down on the table before helping Lance to his feet. Lance was still engaged with trying to clean his face off. Hunk used his vest like a towel, cleaning most of the goo off, and cast a stern look at Keith, who was standing twenty feet away, arms stiff at his sides.

"Keith," said Hunk, his tone actually annoyed. "Would'ja stop bothering Lance all the time?"

" _ME_? Stop bothering _him?_ "

"Okay, everyone." Shiro had finally gotten to his feet. "That's enough. Let's all sit down and eat and then get some rest."

Hunk shifted. "Yeah – about that. None of the appliances in the kitchen are working except the goo one." He scratched his head. "Sorry."

Lance sighed loudly. "Yay. Hoorah. Yuck."

"Well, it is food," said Pidge reasonably, as they sat down.

Keith passed Lance a bowl of goo, and Lance thanked him in a perfectly normal tone of voice, as though they hadn't just been wrestling and careening around the room.

Shiro almost commented on the fact, but wisely let it pass. If they were too tired to continue their fight, there was no point at all in reminding them of it.

"It has been one of those days, hasn't it?" he said instead.

The others blinked at him. They exchanged thoughtful looks, and then Pidge said, "One of those _weeks,_ Shiro. One of those weeks."


End file.
